


Up To Eleven

by TheArtistFormerlyKnownAsG



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Blended family, Boundaries, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Coming In Pants, Coming Untouched, Dirty Talk, Enhanced Human, Enthusiastic Consent, First Time, Hypersensitivity, Idiots in Love, Inappropriate use of Stark Tech, Iron Man Suit Kink, Kinky Peter Parker, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Not Underage, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Tony Stark, Peter Parker is a Little Shit, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Prosthetic Limb, Scars, Self-Esteem Issues, Smut, Temperature Play, This totally ran away with me and now look where we are, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Lives, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unsafe Sex, What Are Refractory Periods, Why are feelings so complicated, body image issues, lots of feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:20:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 15,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21875053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheArtistFormerlyKnownAsG/pseuds/TheArtistFormerlyKnownAsG
Summary: He watches those five minutes. Watches them again, and again. Tries to tell himself that he’s seeing something other than what FRIDAY is showing him.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Comments: 83
Kudos: 611





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Am I ever gonna finish the Hot for Teacher series? Who knows? I sure as hell don't.
> 
> Anyway, have some gratuitous Starker porn. There really is only the barest hint of a plot in this. Key points: Tony survives Endgame but loses his arm and builds himself a kick-ass prosthetic one, him and Pepper break up but stay friends and co-parent Morgan. Peter is in college. That's it.
> 
> The chapter number may be subject to change.

The day Tony first notices, they’re in the lab, going over the updates he wants to make to Peter's newest suit. He wants to run them by the kid first, wants to see what he thinks about them, and so he pulls up a holo display and proceeds to explain. Peter sits, listens, as always with rapt attention, eyes following Tony's hands as he points out things on the holoscreen.

“Wouldn’t it make more sense,” Peter says at one point, and Tony doesn’t hear the rest of the question because Peter leans forward, into Tony’s space, and he raises his hand and taps away on the screen. Tony finds himself facing the kid's throat, his neck, and he very carefully draws in a breath.

Peter smells like sunscreen, and underneath that he smells a little wild. Windswept. Tony imagines it’s from swinging his way here, to the tower .

Tony breathes out, slowly, and if he hadn’t been watching the way Peter's throat bobs as he talks, he would have missed it. His breath must reach Peter’s skin, because the next thing he knows, he can see the hair on the back of Peter’s neck stand on end, the rest of his throat breaking out in goose bumps. Peter freezes, and before Tony can think about what’s happening, he does it again.

He breathes, deliberately this time, against Peter’s skin, and oh, now the kid shivers, all over.

 _Huh_ , Tony thinks. Interesting.

Peter leans back again, trying for nonchalance as he rubs a hand over the back of his neck. “So what do you think,” he asks, looking at a spot somewhere to the left of Tony's face. There’s colour in his cheeks, just a hint.

Tony shrugs. “To be honest, I wasn’t listening. I got distracted,” and he lets his gaze travel along the line of Peter’s throat. In response, Peter goes a delicious shade of red, and he swallows drily.

“I... I should go,” he says, glances down at his watch for a split second, definitely too quickly to see what time it is. Tony feels a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “May is probably waiting for me.”

Tony leans forward, rests his elbows on his knees as he clasps his hands in front of him. Peter watches, just as attentive as when Tony explained the updates to him. “I thought she was working late today.”

“Uh, right. Forgot about that.”

“Tell me something,” Tony says, and then he reaches, takes one of Peter’s hands in his and pulls. The chair Peter is sitting in rolls forward silently, until Tony’s thighs bracket Peter's, and he turns Peter’s hand so his palm is pointing up. “Is this a side-effect of the spider bite?” And then he draws the tip of one finger - of his left hand, not the right, even though the sensitivity of his prosthetic limb is truly spectacular - over the inside of Peter’s wrist, where the skin is thinnest, where the kid’s pulse is racing, and he watches as goose bumps run up Peter’s arm. When he looks back up, Peter has his lower lip caught between his teeth, his eyes wide.

His pupils are blown, and Tony feels a stab of arousal as strong as any he has ever experienced. 

“I think so,” Peter says then, hardly louder than a whisper.

“Senses dialled up to eleven, huh?” The kid nods, jerkily, and Tony replaces his finger with his thumb. Draws a slow circle, then slides it along the tendon nestled between ulna and radius, the barest of touches. Peter makes a soft sound, a choked little thing as he shifts in his seat, his eyes glued to the motion of Tony's thumb, and Tony can tell he’s caught between allowing this to continue and pulling his hand away.

Tony being Tony, of course, takes that as his cue to go further.  
He moves his hand, until he's encircling Peter’s wrist, and then he’s lifting it towards his mouth. Peter’s eyes grow impossibly wider. “Mister Stark, I...”

Tony moves his thumb out of the way and blows, softly, on Peter’s pulse.

Peter jumps out of his chair like he’s been electrocuted, clasping his hand to his chest with his other as he turns away, eyes squeezed shut. “I really should go now.”

This is when Tony realises he overstepped a boundary, an invisible line he had no right to cross. Again. “Hey, you don’t...” Peter’s eyes fly open, and now he looks mortified, and Tony instantly feels like the biggest jerk. “I’m sorry, Pete, that was... I shouldn’t have done that. I had no right to...” 

“No, it’s okay, I really need to get going, I need to study anyway, Professor Higgins is gonna murder me if I fail this exam,” and if he needed any more confirmation that Peter is incredibly uncomfortable with this, here it is. The word vomit hasn’t made an appearance in his presence in a long while, and Tony wants to go back in time (again) and fix this.

Instead he says – nothing. He watches silently as Peter gathers his things, nods in acknowledgement when he throws a, “Bye, Mister Stark, see you on Tuesday,” over his shoulder as he all but runs from the lab. Tony watches the doors slide shut behind him before he sits back and runs his hands over his face.

“Nice going, Stark.”

Truth is, he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t noticed how Peter had changed in the years since Thanos. No longer a skinny teenager, he had seemed to be more comfortable in his body. More comfortable around Tony, even if he never accepted the offer of a first name basis. Going to university had done him a world of good, and officially joining the Avengers had been a mere formality.

And another truth Tony can’t deny? The kid is attractive as hell. Those eyes, his curls, the way he smiles... Tony takes a deep breath and says, into the silence of the lab, “Shit.”

* * *

Later, when Pepper drops off Morgan, he asks, “Do you think I come on too strong?”

Pepper doesn’t even grace him with an answer, she just lifts her eyebrows at him before she calls out a goodbye to Morgan. “I don’t know who this is about and honestly don’t much care but try and tone whatever it is you’re doing down a little,” she says, after all, as she turns towards the elevator. “You do kind of have a tendency to dial things up way too fast.”

Tony winces because, ouch. “Thanks, Pep.”

It’s just beginning to get dark when Morgan falls asleep midway through the movie she’s watching, and as Tony carries her to her room, he can’t stop his thoughts from going in circles. He settles into his own bed a while later with his StarkPad, a cup of tea on the nightstand next to him that will, inevitably, grow cold. “FRIDAY, be a dear and show me the footage from the lab today. Just before Peter left.”

He watches those five minutes. Watches them again, and again. Tries to tell himself that he’s seeing something other than what FRIDAY is showing him. “How were his vitals?”

“Heart rate and body temperature both elevated.”

Tony closes his eyes, takes a deep breath. “Play it again.”

This time, he doesn’t watch himself stroke his thumb along Peter's wrist, no, this time he pays attention to what Peter does. Listens to the choked sound he makes, watches how he shifts.  
How his free hand drops into his lap while Tony is preoccupied with watching the goose bumps on his arm, and how he presses the heel of it against his crotch.

“FRI,” he says, quietly, “how would you categorise Peter’s reaction?”

“Given the context, I would say he's displaying signs of arousal, boss,” she says in her calmest voice, and Tony feels like he just went over the top of a rollercoaster, his stomach seemingly in freefall.

There are two options here. Either Peter was so disgusted by both Tony’s actions and his reaction to it that he fled, or... Or.  
It doesn’t bear thinking about.

Tony drums his fingers against the side of the pad, stares at his reflection in the window. Then he hears himself say, “FRIDAY, call Peter.”

* * *

"I need you to be honest with me, kid," he says without preamble when Peter picks up a minute later.

"Uh," Peter says, obviously confused. "Okay? I wasn't planning on lying to you."

"Honest about a specific thing." Tony takes a deep breath, steels himself, before he asks, "When I was touching you in the lab today, did that turn you on?"

A long, tense silence that stretches between them like a chasm.

Then Peter hangs up.


	2. Chapter 2

Peter goes into complete radio silence for the next three days, and while Tony is itching to call him again (or just straight up get into the suit and fly over to his dorm), he stops himself. No use pushing the kid when he's so obviously repulsed by what happened, by what Tony put on him. Tony can practice self restraint when he wants to despite what some people might think, thank you ever so much.

To be honest though, he's more than just a little surprised when Peter walks into the lab on Tuesday, drops his backpack by the door and crosses his arms in front of his chest. "I think we need to talk."

Tony stares, a strange tingling in his chest. "I'm all ears." And just like that, Peter deflates a little, all the bravado apparently used up by that little show of force, and Tony decides to take pity on him. "Look, I apologise. I don't know what got into me, I guess the scientist in me couldn't stop himself from testing…"

"You were right," Peter interrupts, his cheeks going pink. "With your… hypothesis," and his eyes dance all over the room nervously. "It did. What you asked on the phone."

Tony breathes. In, out. Again. He needs to concentrate on breathing because he's pretty certain he's hallucinating right now. There's no way Peter just admitted what he thinks he did.

"Would you say something? Because I'm having a bit of a panic attack," and he looks on the verge of either bolting or bursting into tears.

"That's…" Tony clears his throat, runs a hand through his hair. At least they're both freaking out. "Ok. Wow. I wasn't expecting…"

Peter makes a little noise, shifts. "I wasn't going to say anything. I thought, oh, he can't possibly have known." Now he does look at Tony, and the slightly mad look in Peter's eyes does worry him a little. "But then you actually asked, like it's no big deal, just this thing between colleagues that happens and I…" He slides his hands into his hair and pulls, and shit, that looks painful. Tony is across the room before he has formed a thought, reaching up and taking hold of Peter's wrists.

"Hey, hey, watch it, you're gonna hurt yourself," he says as he pulls them gently away from Peter's head. The kid looks back at him (not up any longer, that growth spurt came late but it did), eyes wide and… imploring.

"Mister Stark, I… I can't think when you're touching me," and his voice is barely loud enough to hear.

Tony lets go, not too quickly lest he spook the kid. He can't look away from those wide eyes, however.

And then Peter says, "I want to test it."

"Test what?" Because at least fifteen different things he could try on him this second pop into Tony's head, but he can't voice any of them.

"How I react t-to different stimuli." He's halfway to crimson now, but he stands his ground, and when his tongue darts out to wet his lips, Tony has to close his eyes.

"Do you know what it is you're asking?"

Peter hums. "I mean, it hasn't been an issue yet?" His voice wavers, and that has no right being as adorable as it is. "It's stupid, forget I said anything."

"I just want you to be sure," Tony says as he opens his eyes again. Peter has turned away, obviously embarrassed, and Tony reaches for and takes his hand. "I crossed a line the other day, and I want you to tell me when I'm doing that. When I'm in that headspace, I can become…"

"Demanding?" Is that… is the kid smirking at him? His eyebrows lift, just a fraction of an inch, and then he says, in a voice that seems to come straight from Tony's fantasies (which he will deny having, no matter what), "Domineering?"

* * *

This whole 'being rendered speechless by Peter Parker' thing is new, and surprisingly fun, even if Tony feels entirely out of synch with reality, because holy shit, did the kid just _imply_ what Tony thinks he did?

He opens his mouth to reply, but nothing except a croak comes out. Peter grins at him, just for a second, before he ducks his head and moves over to the workbench, plops himself down on a chair. He spins around once before he places his elbows on the table behind him, cocking his head. "I've been thinking heat and cold to start."

An image pops into Tony's head, unbidden. His hand - his real, flesh hand - holding an ice cube, running it down Peter's throat, dipping into the hollow spot where his clavicles meet. Further down, to circle a tight nipple. He can almost hear the little hiss that would escape Peter's mouth, followed by a moan when Tony closed his lips over it, warming the skin.

He shakes himself, blinks. Peter is still watching him, mouth quirking up in the smallest of smiles.

"That's, uh. Yeah. Let's try that. If you want to."

To Tony's secret disappointment, Peter doesn't pull off his shirt, just pushes his sleeves up to his elbows. His arms are slim, but Tony knows the strength in them, knows Peter could break him like a matchstick if he wanted to.

The kid clasps his hands in front of him, looks up at Tony with those puppy dog eyes of his. Says, "How do you want me then?"

Okay. 

Now Tony knows Peter is doing it on purpose. 

He doesn't know why, or where he got the confidence for it from all of a sudden, but hey. Two can play this game. And Tony definitely has more experience with this.

"Up here," he says, with a smile that borders on the flirtatious as he slaps the workbench, emphasising how sturdy it is, and Peter's facade cracks for a second.

"Uh, sure." He gets to his feet and hops up onto the table, his legs dangling, and before Tony can think better of it, he steps into the space between Peter's knees.

They've been this close before, closer, actually, but usually in the midst of battle, when he catches Peter when, rarely, one of his webs breaks, or one of those "Holy shit, we didn't die" hugs after. This is entirely different.

Today, Peter smells like coffee and cologne, and this close, Tony can see his pulse racing at the base of his throat. He lifts his arm, the new, shiny metal one, and closes his fingers around Peter's left wrist. "Tell me when it gets too much," he says quietly.

The thing about being Tony Stark and having a prosthetic limb is that you can design it yourself. And boy, had he gone to town with this, putting in features Pepper had frowned over before shaking her head. "You always have to overdo it, don't you?"

Now, his fingers and palm cool down, slowly but noticeably. Peter looks down at the hand encircling his wrist when he notices the change, eyes wide. "Wh-"

"Never know when this might come in handy," Tony says with a wink, and Peter groans.

"That was such a dad joke."

"Well, I am a dad so I'm allowed."

Peter snorts a laugh, and Tony speeds up the cooling process, just a little. In response, goosebumps pop up all over Peter's arm. "That feels strange."

"Good strange or bad strange?"

"Dunno yet." He looks up at Tony through his lashes, and Tony can hear his blood rushing in his ears. "Maybe try somewhere else?"

He swallows drily. "Where were you thinking?"

And Peter tips his head back, licks his lips. Bares his throat, and Tony can't hear anything except white noise for a moment.

"Peter," he says, his voice breaking, his grip on Peter's wrist tightening. "Are you sure," he asks, just a whisper.

Peter closes his eyes, swallows. Tony watches his Adam's apple bob as he does, how the muscles contract. He catches himself tipping forward ever so slightly, halfway to leaning into Peter's space to press his lips against his throat.

Jesus fucking Christ.

"Please," Peter says then, breathlessly.

* * *

Tony wonders for a moment if this was ever really about science at all, for either of them. Probably not.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays to one and all.

He lets go of Peter's arm, lifts his hand. He can feel the coldness radiating out from it in the air between their bodies, and he shivers. "This is going to sting, Pete," he says, before he touches his fingertips to Peter's throat.

Peter gasps, and Tony can tell he's keeping himself still with effort.

His fingers wrap around Peter's throat, and when the kid swallows, he can feel the movement against his palm.

"Mister Stark," Peter says, his voice trembling, and Tony's other hand moves of its own volition, up to Peter's thigh, to his hip. Pulls him forward, closer, until Tony is truly caught between his legs.

"I think that's enough," he says quietly and lets the metal warm again, slowly. When he takes his hand away, Peter's throat is an angry red, blotchy, and now he can't stop himself, he leans forward and presses a kiss there. Peter makes a choked sound, his whole body twitching, and then his hands are at Tony's waist, grabbing the fabric of his shirt.

The kiss morphs, rather quickly, until Tony is sucking marks into Peter's skin, the sounds the kid is making going straight to his cock, and then Peter gives a full-body shudder, his grip on Tony's shirt tightening before he gasps out a strangled, "Mister Stark, I'm gonna…"

Tony has a split second to process this statement before Peter gives a long moan, his hips twitching and his back arching, and Tony stares at him, mesmerised.

* * *

He is so hard he thinks he's going to burst.

* * *

"Did you just…"

Peter pushes him away suddenly, his face crimson as he slides off the workbench and turns his back on Tony. "I'm sorry, that was…"

Tony is on him in a flash, crowding him against the table, one hand on either side of his hips and his cock pressed against that beautiful ass. "Peter, that was so hot I'm having a _really_ hard time with this whole self-control thing," he says against Peter's ear, voice dark with arousal, and Peter whimpers.

"Really? You really think that?"

"Of course, sweetheart," and oh, now Peter pushes back against him with a sharp intake of breath. "Getting you to come like that just from my mouth on your skin? I shouldn't be trusted with this power."

"I do, though," Peter says quietly. "Trust you, I mean," and now it's Tony's turn to groan, to bury his face in Peter's hair as his hips roll forwards, pressing his erection against him harder.

"You don't know what you're saying, kid," he protests with the last remnants of his self-control. "You shouldn't."

Peter turns in his arms, and Jesus Christ, he's still hard. His eyes are serious as he looks back at Tony, his cheeks still flushed. His hand comes up, cups Tony's cheek. "I'm not stupid," he says, his thumb brushing over Tony's cheekbone, making it hard to think. "And I'm not a child any more," and he's leaning forward and then he's kissing Tony and _fuck_.

Tony has kissed a lot of people over the years. For the last decade or so it was just Pepper, true, but still, he has experience. Enough data to compare.

Not to sound like a romantic cliché, but this kiss _doesn't_ compare. It's so, so much better. Peter's lips are soft, warm, and he kisses with a sort of demanding gentleness that makes Tony weak in the knees, and he's almost certain he could spend eternity doing this. He reaches up, cups Peter's jaw with both hands as Peter's arm goes around his neck as he gives a happy little hum.

When they part, Tony slides his hands down Peter's arms, over his hips and to his ass, pulling him closer. "Jesus, kid," he breathes.

Peter chuckles, an airy thing. "I've been wanting to do that for ages."

"Really?" Tony's eyebrows are making a good attempt at disappearing into his hairline, and Peter turns that lovely shade of pink again.

"You honestly didn't notice I had a crush on you the size of Manhattan?"

 _No,_ Tony thinks, _I didn't._


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops, who allowed all these *feelings* in here?

"What else did you want to do," he asks instead of answering, his voice dropping, and Peter's eyes flit away, his blush darkening.

"Um," he says, and Tony decides, fuck it. He winds his metal arm around Peter - carefully, so gingerly, even after two years he still underestimates the strength in the thing from time to time - and lifts him, sits him down on the workbench again. Peter gives a little squeak, the arm he has still wound around Tony's neck holding on a little tighter reflexively. His pupils are completely blown, his lips parted, and Tony thinks, _I did that_ , with no small measure of surprise.

"You wanna tell me? Or should I have a guess?"

Peter's eyes flutter closed and he licks his lips, and Tony tugs him to the edge of the table, until he can push himself against the kid. "I… I saw your sextape," Peter says, eyes still closed. "A little while after Germany. I had always admired you, even as a kid, but when I saw that…" He shudders, and Tony leans forward, kisses the line of his jaw. Peter whines, tilts his head back. "I always wondered. What it would be like."

He thinks, quickly, tries to remember what was in that video. It has been so long, he hardly recalls anything. It had been a woman, that much he knows. The uproar of Tony Stark having a gay sextape might have been too much for even Pepper to handle back then. Some details come back to him though, and he smiles.

"Do you want to find out," he asks quietly, and Peter chokes on air.

"Mister Stark, I…"

"Kid, you've had your tongue down my throat. I'm really gonna have to insist you call me Tony now."

Finally, Peter laughs, a proper laugh, before he smiles. "Ok. Tony, then." He looks down at Tony's chest, moves his hand from the back of Tony's neck, fingertips trailing feather light over his skin, until he lets it rest over his sternum, where the arc reactor used to sit. There's still a divot, scar tissue that will never go away, and now Peter softly strokes that most carefully hidden part of him. It wakes something else in Tony, something that isn't lust or desire, and he swallows heavily.

"Pete…"

He looks up at Tony through his lashes, mouth quirking in a sly smile. "I do reserve the right to call you Mister Stark in certain circumstances."

It takes Tony a second to catch on. He's still so turned on his brain is working a little slower than usual, and he only gets Peter's meaning when his smile widens, when he catches his bottom lip between his teeth. "You mean like…"

Peter lies back on the workbench, spreads himself across the surface. His shirt rides up as he arches his back a little, grinding his ass against Tony's front, and then he says, with a tone of voice that is pure sin, "Like this, Mister Stark."

There's a hint of a happy trail leading down from Peter's navel, disappearing into his jeans, and it's all Tony lets himself focus on. Because otherwise? He's not sure he could stop himself from fucking Peter right now. "Didn't know you'd be so kinky."

"We're a kinky generation," Peter replies, amusement in his voice, and then he reaches down, grabs the hem of his shirt and tugs it up a little, revealing more of that unfairly toned stomach. "But look who's talking."

"I'm the image of virtue," Tony says, transfixed by every little bit of skin Peter allows him to see. He's still endlessly fascinated by the kid's super healing, leading to there not being a single scar or blemish on him, despite all the abuse his body has been through in the last couple of years. It's a little sad, really, as it also means no mark Tony will put on him will ever last. The ones he sucked into his throat are long gone already.

"You still with me?" Peter looks up at him, a sliver of uncertainty creeping into his voice, and Tony mentally shakes himself. Can't have that.

He steps back a little, and there's a flash of hurt on Peter's face, but it melts away just as quickly when Tony leans down and presses a kiss to the soft skin of his stomach. "I was just distracted," he murmurs between kisses, moving upwards as Peter pulls his shirt the rest of the way up, until it bunches at his throat. Peter honest to God giggles when Tony kisses along his ribs, then moans when Tony sucks his left nipple into his mouth.

"Fuck, that's…"

A thought occurs to Tony then, one he hadn't even considered until now, since the kid is 20 years old and in college, but he's also Peter, and he pulls back to look at him, a sense of dread spreading in his stomach. "Peter… Have you done this before?"

The way Peter blushes and averts his eyes is answer enough.

"Jesus Christ, I..." He's moving away because fuck, of course the kid is a virgin, but then Peter grabs his arm and holds on and yeah, he forgets sometimes how strong Peter really is. He's looking up at Tony with wide eyes, and if you didn't know him you might miss the determined set of his jaw. "So what? I want this."

Tony makes a frustrated noise as he tries to tug his arm free from Peter's grasp. "That's your crush talking, your first time should be with someone special, someone you're in love with, someone…"

Peter's grip tightens, and then he sits up and pulls Tony closer until they're chest to chest. Tony couldn't go anywhere if he wanted to, and yeah, that's hot. "I am with that someone," Peter says quietly, and shit.

Shit.


	5. Chapter 5

"You don't mean that," Tony says weakly, his resolve already crumbling under Peter's stare. "You can't… I'm not…"

Peter scrunches his nose, displeased. "But you are! You're a good man, and you've always looked out for me. After Thanos… I didn't think you'd make it. None of us did. But you came back, you survived and… I realised I stopped having a crush on you at some point." His eyes flit across the room for a moment before he looks back at Tony. His voice goes very quiet. "I'm in love with you, Tony."

* * *

It's been a long time since he has wanted to run as much as he does now.

* * *

"Peter," he says, voice breaking because no, it can't be. He's an old, damaged man with so much baggage, and Peter is young and bright and wonderful, and he shouldn't want this.

 _Tony_ shouldn't want this, but oh, he does.

He wants it so much, all of a sudden, that it hurts.

"Please," Peter breathes, leaning forward, until there's bare millimetres separating their mouths.

"I don't want to hurt you," Tony says quietly, his lips brushing against Peter's when he speaks, "and I know I would."

"You could never," Peter says, and Tony groans. That right there should be all the reason he needs to turn around and end this right now, this misplaced trust the kid still harbours. This hero worship that he knows he can't live up to. "I can hear you thinking," Peter says, nudging Tony's nose with his own, "and I know _what_ you're thinking." He draws back a little, just enough to look Tony in the eyes. "You've been harsh before, like when you took away the suit, but I knew even then that you did it out of concern. Out of love." He chuckles. "And you were right, I wasn't ready. I was a child." He shrugs. "But as we've established, I'm not any more. And I wouldn't let you walk all over me." He tips his head forward again, brushes his lips over Tony's, who makes a helpless little noise in the back of his throat in response. "So please, trust me to make my own decisions," Peter says against his lips, and Tony folds like a cheap lawn chair.

"Ok," he says, tries to scrape together the last of his willpower. "But if you want out at any time, please tell me."

Peter just nods, smiles. "Promise." And then he's kissing him, and Tony's brain officially goes AWOL.

* * *

They kiss for a long time, Peter's fingers sliding into the hair at the back of Tony's neck, and all Tony can focus on is the feeling of having Peter Parker practically plastered to him from lips to groin.

It's a good feeling.

Finally, Peter's kisses become more heated, more demanding, and then he nips at Tony's bottom lip while pushing his hips forward, and well. He's human after all and can only be expected to withstand temptation for so long.

"What do you want, sweetheart? Tell me," he says into the space between them, his hands taking hold of Peter's ass and pulling him close. Peter whimpers in response, and when Tony draws back a little to look at him, he can see just how worked up the kid is.

"I… Touch me, please, I need…"

Tony leans back, moves his hand between them. Moulds it to the hard outline of Peter's cock, and smirks. "Like this?" And then he squeezes.

Peter goes rigid with a strangled shout, and then Tony can feel his jeans grow hot and damp.

"Hot damn, kid," he breathes. He runs his thumb over the tip, down the underside, his own cock twitching when Peter whimpers helplessly.

"Sorry," he pants, "I have a bit of a hair trigger when…" His mouth snaps shut and he looks away, and he should really know Tony better than this. Because now? Now Tony is intrigued. 

"When what?"

Peter shifts, the tips of his ears dark red. "When it comes to you," he finally mumbles, and Tony grins.

"As I said, I shouldn't be trusted with power such as this," he says before he reaches up and runs his thumb over the button on Peter's jeans, his knuckles dragging over Peter's still hard cock (and sweet baby Jesus, this is a superpower all on its own). In response, the kid moans raggedly, arching his back, and Tony leans forward, kisses him softly. "We can stop if it's too much. Or, you know, if you want to stop."

"I _definitely_ don't want to stop," Peter gasps, and Tony smiles. 

"Well then," he says as he pops the button one-handed, and Peter's eyes flutter closed. "Just tell me one thing: how inexperienced are we actually talking here?"

Again, Peter blushes hard. "I've had a girlfriend, but we never made it… that far," and Jesus, it would be great if the kid could stop driving home just how young he really is. "Just some heavy petting, really."

"So you've never," Tony gestures vaguely at his crotch, and Peter rolls his eyes.

"I've never had penetrative sex, no." He looks down to where they're still pressed together, and then the little shit wriggles. "Not with someone else, anyway," he says quietly, and Tony's brain shorts out. Peter leans forward, licks his lips. "What I mean to say is, the internet exists, and I know how to get to the naughty online shops."


	6. Chapter 6

There's a voice in the back of Tony's mind, yelling at him to abort. He's not entirely sure why, so he ignores it.

Instead he slides his hand down, over Peter's hip and further, down his thigh until he can grab a hold of it. "God, Peter," he says, and the kid chuckles.

"As I said, kinky generation." He leans back then, rests his weight on his elbows. There's a calculating look on his face, but Tony can tell he's nervous; his pulse is jack-rabbiting at the base of his throat. "I could show you," Peter says then, with an air of indifference that is fake as hell, and Tony chokes on his own spit.

When he has recovered from the following coughing fit, he stares at Peter, who just looks back at him with a challenge in his eyes.

"You don't have to do that," he says, tries to mean it. Of course Peter doesn't _have_ to. Tony would be lying though if he said the thought of watching the kid fuck himself on some toy wasn't almost enough to make him come untouched. His mind goes, unbidden, to those weird ones themed after mythical creatures Clint showed him a billion years ago, and well. 

Fuck.

"I know that," and Peter sounds petulant. Like a teenager. Then he bites his lip and says, "But what if I want to?"

He wants to protest. No, let's rephrase that. He _should_ protest. He really doesn't _want_ to though. "Well, considering that you can deadlift a truck and I gave myself a paper cut handling blueprints the other day, I certainly couldn't stop you if you did."

Peter grins and winds his legs around Tony's waist. "Not even with the suit?"

There's an odd glint in the kid's eyes that Tony files away for later. "I'm not wearing the suit, am I?"

"That sounds like an invitation," Peter breathes, wriggles against Tony again, "Mister Stark."

And before he can think better of it, he says, "I have toys upstairs, you know?"

* * *

Peter all but drags him up the stairs, and Tony wonders where exactly the stammering, shy college student who had walked into his lab has gone.

Not that he minds terribly much. This confident version of Peter pushes all of his buttons, if he's honest about it.

Once upstairs, Peter falters in the living room, uncertain of where to go, and Tony takes over, tugging him along to the bedroom. His heart is in his throat, and when they reach the door, he stops. "Peter, I need you to be sure. Like, _sure_ sure."

In response Peter pins him against the wall and kisses him until Tony sees stars. 

They stumble into the room, topple onto the bed. Peter is heavier than he looks, it turns out as he knocks the wind out of Tony, and then he has a lap full of squirming, horny college sophomore who is pulling his shirt over his head and, oh.

Oh _yes._

"You know," Peter says between kisses, "I was a little afraid, to be honest."

"Afraid of what?" The thought alone sends a block of ice down his throat.

"That you'd say no." Peter looks down at him with a soft smile, entirely at odds with the way he's rubbing himself against Tony, and the ice in his chest evaporates just like that.

"As if I could say no to this," he says as he grabs Peter's ass, digging his fingers into his flesh, and the kid keens as his eyes slip closed. "God, you're gorgeous," Tony breathes, and it's the truth. Peter isn't just handsome, he's beautiful, made even more beautiful by the colour rising in his cheeks at the compliment. He's rutting steadily against Tony now, his hips moving seemingly of their own accord, and Tony could watch him for hours. "Just look at you," he says as he lets his hands wander, up over Peter's waist, over the flat of his stomach, and Peter's movements grow a little faster, a little more frantic. "So hungry for it, aren't you?" Peter's eyes are squeezed tightly shut, his mouth hanging open, the perfect image of debauchery, and Tony goes in for the kill. He rubs his left thumb over Peter's nipple at the same time he reaches down with his metal hand, cupping Peter's cock through his jeans, squeezing, and says, "Come for me, sweetheart."

Peter curls forward as he obeys with a drawn-out moan, a look of pure bliss on his face. Tony rubs him through his jeans until Peter bats at his hand weakly, and then he pulls him down to lie on his chest, head tucked under his chin. "Wow," Peter breathes, laughs a little. "That was…"

"Your third orgasm in the last twenty minutes," Tony says, amusement lacing his voice. "Oh, to be 20 and enhanced," he muses, and Peter smacks him lightly on the arm.

"Yeah, well," he mumbles into Tony's shirt, "it's not all unicorns and rainbows, you know?" He shifts, makes a disgusted noise. "These jeans are getting pretty vile."

Tony laughs. "Want me to help take them off?"

And Peter lifts his head, looks at Tony with a smirk. His eyes are still a little glassy but the look of hunger on his face hasn't dulled the slightest bit. "Please do."


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where that body image issues tag comes into play. Prepare for feelings.

Tony doesn't need to be told twice. He rolls them over, taking the opportunity to wedge his thigh between Peter's and rub himself against him, and Peter whines in response.

"Never would've thought we'd end up here," he murmurs against Peter's jaw before kissing his way down his throat. "Never thought you'd ever think of me like that."

Peter laughs, high and breathless. "Have you actually _seen_ yourself?" His hands are moving over Tony's shoulders, going into his hair, and Tony hums happily. "God, you don't want to know how often I lay in my bed, staring up at the Iron Man poster while I was jerking off."

He lifts his head from where he's been nibbling a trail along Peter's clavicle, cocks an eyebrow. "Why, Mister Parker, consider me shocked."

Peter flushes and bites his lip. "First time I fingered myself, I was wearing the cowl. The one you made for me." His eyelids flutter, like they want to close, but he keeps looking at Tony. "I came so hard I blacked out," he says, and now it's Tony who has to look away, burying his face against Peter's chest with a groan.

"Jesus, kid, I _really_ shouldn't think these things about 15-year-old you."

Peter's fingers draw circles over Tony's scalp, and he huffs a laugh. "Well, I'm not 15 any more, so how about you get these jeans off of me?"

He does, finally, tugging them down Peter's slim hips, and his breath catches. "Going commando? Naughty boy," he breathes, unable to look away. _How does this not hurt_ , he thinks because of course the kid is still just as hard, his cock curving up against his belly, red and angry-looking and the tip glistening wetly. As he sits there and stares, Peter reaches down, wraps his fingers around himself and gives a lazy tug.

"Doesnt hurt to be prepared." Then he lifts his leg and pokes Tony in the shoulder with a toe. "You're overdressed."

Tony swallows, still watching Peter's hand move leisurely on his cock. It's mesmerising. "Fair's fair, I guess." He grabs the hem of his henley and pulls it upwards, before he can get cold feet.

He knows what his chest looks like. His shoulder, where the prosthesis merges with the skin. He's reminded of it every time he looks into a mirror, with the scarring creeping up his neck that even the cradle hadn't been able to fix completely. It's part of why he and Pepper broke up, after Thanos, that he couldn't handle the pain in her eyes every time she looked at him.

There's no pain in Peter's eyes as he looks up at him. They grow wide, yes, but all Tony sees there is… awe.

Peter sits up, reaches. His hand stops just short of touching him, hovers uncertainly between them, until Tony takes a breath and says, "Go on."

If this were a cheap romance novel, that first touch would be electric. Shivers would run down Tony's spine. As it is, it feels like someone lifted a weight off his shoulders. Peter's touch is gentle, the tips of his fingers tracing the ruin left behind by the arc reactor, the white lines moving out from the centre of his chest. The look on his face turns almost reverent when he moves up to touch Tony's shoulder, the seam between flesh and metal, and then his face twists. His eyes glisten wetly all of a sudden, and he says, "I'm so sorry."

Tony takes his hand, pulls it away from his skin. "What could you possibly have to be sorry for, kid?"

Peter licks his lips, shuffles closer. "You've been through so much and… Sometimes I feel like people don't understand." He looks up at Tony, wipes his free hand across his eyes. His smile is tremulous. "Like they take you for granted."

He shrugs, aims for nonchalance when all he wants to do is scream, to hide from Peter's gaze. "Story of my life, I'm afraid."

Peter tugs on his hand, the one Tony is still holding, and he didn't expect it and topples forward, knocking Peter back onto the bed. He lands with an, " _Oof,_ " that Peter echoes, and then Peter's arms are around him and he couldn't get away if he wanted to.

"I just want you to know that... I'm grateful, for everything. And," he swallows, licks his lips, "I can see how you feel about these." At that, he taps a finger against the scars on Tony's neck, turns it into a caress. "But I think they're beautiful."

Tony's breath gets stuck in his throat. 

"They tell your story," Peter says as he leans forward and presses a kiss to Tony's jaw, then moves lower. "They show that you fought the unthinkable and won." He mouths at Tony's clavicle, then moves outward. "You woke up in a cave and basically built yourself a new heart. You defeated the Mad Titan." He reaches the spot where flesh becomes metal, and Tony expects him to stop there, but of course. _Of course._ "You create your own reality when you disagree with what the world tells you must happen. How is that not something to be proud of?"

He kisses Tony's metal arm, just as if it were real and flesh and with no regard for the oddness of it, and the sound that wrenches itself from Tony's throat is barely human, at least to his own ears.

Peter keeps going, kissing along the line of his arm, and then he brings Tony's hand up to kiss the palm, his knuckles, and Tony doesn't know what to do with himself. "Peter…"

"You're always looking after everyone," Peter says against his palm, before he looks up at him. He's so earnest, so sincere that it makes Tony's heart seize up.

"It's what I do," he mutters, and Peter's mouth quirks up into a half-smile.

"I know. But," and here his smile turns almost coquettish, "let me return the favour some time."

 _Anything you want,_ Tony thinks, and then, _Fuck._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter might take a while because I'm sick but I'm working on it. Thank you all for reading and have a good NYE.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy new year!
> 
> Turns out I lied. Hanging out in bed all day is actually pretty good for writing.
> 
> Heads up, the fun's about to start. Here we gooooooo!

Peter seems to sense the gravity of the situation, how affected by his words and actions Tony is, for he changes course pretty instantaneously.

"In any case," he says, wriggling a little under Tony, "I thought we were here for something else?"

Tony needs another moment to gather his frayed thoughts, to shut down the constant refrain of _fuckfuckfuckdon'tsayitfuck_ that's running through his head. Needs to pull himself back from the brink of… whatever this was about to turn into, and focus on the matter at hand.

He leans down, presses a kiss to Peter's lips, turns it filthy when the kid responds as enthusiastically as Tony had hoped. He's grateful, ridiculously so, for this out Peter is offering him, and he seizes it with both hands. This is supposed to be about testing how Peter reacts to stimuli, right? Not to see how long it takes Tony to admit he-

"Hey," Peter murmurs against his lips, his hands stopping their exploration of Tony's back, "you're thinking again."

"Sorry," Tony whispers, and Peter makes a frustrated little noise before he flips them over.

"Are you sure _you_ want this," he asks in a quiet voice, looking at the tip of Tony's nose, and Tony winds his arms around him, squeezes.

"Yes, Peter, fuck, I can't tell you how much I want this, I just... I get lost in my head sometimes."

Peter smiles, shuts him up with another kiss. "Let me try and distract you, then. Sit up?" He moves off of Tony, off the bed, and Tony pushes himself up until he leans against the headboard. Peter is… like a dream, all lithe limbs and miles of flawless skin just begging to be touched, and now he's grinning, a look in his eyes that says he knows exactly the effect he's having on Tony. "Where are your toys?"

He points at the chest of drawers by the far wall, throat dry. "Bottom drawer."

Peter's smile widens as he saunters over. Tony can't drag his eyes away from the slight swaying of his hips, and he shifts on the bed. "Well," Peter says as he pulls open the drawer, "this is… a lot."

Tony hasn't looked at that particular drawer in a long time but… Yeah, it is. There's obviously an Iron Man themed dildo in there (and it had only been Pepper's _very_ pronounced eye roll at seeing it that had stopped him from getting more) but even that aside, the whole drawer is filled with at least half of what the devious human mind can come up with.

"Too much?" He hates how his voice wavers. He's 55, for crying out loud, way too old to sound this insecure.

Peter just grins at him over his shoulder. "Oh, I like variety," and then he winks.

Tony shifts where he sits on the bed, spreads his thighs a little further. His hand drops to his crotch, adjusting himself in what he hopes is an inconspicuous fashion as Peter surveys the spread before him. He's still trying to come to grips with the rather extreme way his reality has shifted today, not that he's complaining. It's just, to quote Peter, a lot.

"Hmm," the kid hums as he lifts something from the drawer, "what about his one?"

Tony swallows thickly, heat racing up his spine.

The dildo Peter has picked isn't particular big, pretty average really, but it's _thick_. Much thicker than Tony had imagined Peter would ever go for. It looks obscene as Peter holds it up.

"I… Uh. Well, if you… I mean-"

Peter's grin widens.

Tony watches, a little helplessly, as Peter picks up the bottle of lube he knows is also in there before he straightens and then walks back to the bed, paying his nakedness no mind, or rather playing it up as he tosses the bottle onto the mattress and crawls onto it after. Tony can see his cock, still hard and leaking, bob against his stomach as he comes closer on hands and knees.

"Would you like the honours," Peter asks when he has finally reached him, his hands bracketing Tony's hips and his face so close that Tony can feel his breath on his skin.

It takes him a second to understand the kid's meaning, and he lets his voice drop when he asks, "You mean, do I want to open you up?"

At that, the flush returns to Peter's cheeks, crawls down his throat and his chest. It's very becoming, especially combined with the way the kid pulls his lower lip between his teeth before answering. "Yeah," he breathes, leaning closer, "get me all nice and ready so I can take this," he holds up the dildo, his hand just visible in Tony's periphery.

Tony shifts on the mattress again, and Peter grins at him. "Lie down, sweetheart."

Peter flops down on his belly next to Tony, resting his head on his hands. His hair has been getting long, curling on itself, and Tony brushes a lock out of Peter's forehead as he leans down and kisses his shoulder. He keeps going, down the length of Peter's spine until he reaches the swell of his ass, and Peter sucks in a breath when he presses a final kiss to his tailbone. "Tony," he whines, rubs himself against the mattress.

 _This is good,_ Tony thinks, _concentrate on this. You know this, it's simple._

So much simpler than all the other thoughts pinging around in his head, the ones that are about emotions and relationships and just how much he wants to-

_Stop it._

He sits up, runs his hands up the backs of Peter's thighs, to the curve of his ass, squeezes gently. Peter shifts with a sigh, spreads his legs a little wider, and fuck. He couldn't look more inviting if he'd shown up on Tony's doorstep wearing nothing but a big red bow.

Tony blindly fumbles for the lube, eyes glued to the expanse of Peter's back. The kid is completely relaxed, muscles soft under Tony's hand as he seems to melt into the mattress, and Tony, for a moment, chokes on the trust Peter displays.

It shouldn't surprise him, really. Peter has always trusted him more than was probably good for him, why should this be any different?

"Peter, are you…"

"Consent is all well and good," Peter interrupts, "but if you ask me one more time if I'm _really sure_ , I'm gonna strangle you. Just a heads up."

Tony can hear the smile in his voice, and he breathes deeply. "Ok. Sorry." He pops the cap on the lube bottle, squeezes a fair amount onto his fingers. Peter shifts a little so he can look back at him over his shoulders, and Tony can tell he wants to say something but doesn't know how. "What is it, Pete? Changed your mind?"

The kid blushes, deep and dark, as he shakes his head. "No. I just…" His eyes flit down to Tony's hands, first the left, the fingers glistening with the lube, then to his right, still holding the bottle.

Oh.

_Oh._

Peter's earlier comment about the suit comes back to him and. Well.

That's not the strangest fetish he's heard of.

"Do you want these," he asks, dropping the bottle and holding up his right, and the way Peter's eyes turn a little glassy is answer enough, really. "Peter, you gotta tell me."

"Yes," Peter breathes, and he lifts his hips just a fraction, practically begging without words, and Tony squeezes his ass again, gently.

"Alright, ssh, I got you," and fuck, he's this close to coming in his pants himself now. The fact that Peter desires something he made so much is... mind-blowing. He's hyper aware of Peter's gaze as he transfers the lube to the fingers of his right hand, as he pours more on from the bottle. You can never have too much lube, really, and he lets his hand heat up a few degrees to warm the lube. Finally satisfied with his prep, he settles his weight more comfortably (his knees, unfortunately, aren't what they used to be) and catches Peter's eye. "Ready, sweetheart?"

In answer, Peter unfolds his arms and reaches back, spreading himself open for Tony's gaze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As an aside, I usually update the tags as I go along so maybe check them out before reading the new chapters to make sure there's nothing to could be squicky for you.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, this one's a bit of a rollercoaster. There's sexy times, and then there's a whole bunch of feelings and ew.
> 
> I set out writing this intending to do a dirty little PWP about Peter's senses and it devolved into this. What even is my life.

There's that white noise again, a rushing in his ears that's probably his own blood.

"Fuck, Peter," he hears himself say, and Peter grins at him.

"That's the general idea."

Tony makes himself move, guiding his fingertips to Peter's entrance. Peter flinches ever so slightly at the first touch, before he sighs and visibly relaxes. "Ready?"

Peter tilts his hips up, forcing Tony's finger into him past the first knuckle.

Tony stares, frozen. He's usually quick to adapt but for some reason the fact that he's finger-fucking _Peter Parker_ in his bedroom just doesn't compute. Then Peter reaches up, winds his fingers around Tony's metal wrist and squeezes.

"Please, Mister Stark," he whines, and who is Tony to say no to that.

He starts slowly, just a gentle stroke, not to deep or fast. Peter shows no sign of discomfort, something Tony half expected, but maybe the kid is just so far gone he really doesn't need all that much prep to begin with. It would seem that way given the way he soon tilts his hips to meet Tony's hand, quickening the pace, and he whines when Tony places his free hand at the small of his back, stroking gently.

"Ssh, slow down, darling, we have all the time in the world." It seems a little hypocritical when all Tony really wants to do is pull down his own pants and sink himself balls deep into Peter.

He's really winning at this whole self control thing. Pepper would be so proud.

When he adds a second finger, Peter's hands slide down to the mattress, clutching at the sheets. "Fuck, yes," he says, breathlessly, face pressed into a pillow, and Tony has to grab himself through his pants, painfully, to make sure he doesn't spill. Peter is so hot and tight and _willing_ , just like Tony imagined (which, again, he would never, ever admit), and he can't believe that he's allowed to experience this.

"You look so good like this," he murmurs, and Peter whimpers, clenches around his fingers. "Taking this so well," and when he scissors his fingers ever so slightly, the kid sucks in a sharp breath. "This how you prepare yourself at home, hm? Stuff your fingers up your tight little ass pretending it's me?"

" _Yes_ ," Peter bites out, a harsh, desperate sound, and it tugs at something in Tony's gut, something wild and visceral. More lube, and, after a while, a third finger, and Peter keens, pressing his face into the pillow. "Oh god, I'm gonna…"

"Do it, sweetheart, come for me, let me hear you," and Tony picks up the pace, aims for that bundle of nerves he knows is there, and a moment later Peter presses back against his hand, fingers clawing at the sheets, and then he's coming with a scream that makes the hair on Tony's neck stand up.

He slows his movements as Peter goes slack before him, but when he goes to pull his fingers free the kid makes a noise of protest. "Want me to stay here? Ok," and he rubs gentle circles into Peter's hip with his left, until Peter has regained enough strength to turn his head to look at him. He's red-faced and looks completely fucked out, and he's smiling at Tony with a wonderfully blissful expression.

* * *

It's the most beautiful thing Tony has ever seen, and he presses his lips together tightly lest he say something monumentally stupid like 'I love you' or 'Please never leave me'.

* * *

Instead, he stretches himself out beside Peter, keeping his fingers firmly in place, and Peter shuffles closer so he can kiss him. He's warm and relaxed, pressing himself against Tony. "Hmm, that was nice," he murmurs, sounding sleepy, and Tony smiles.

"Yeah," he says quietly, "it was." He presses a kiss to Peter's forehead. "You wanna take a break?" He swallows heavily. "Call it a day?"

Peter shakes his head, inches even closer. "Give me five minutes."

"Christ," he breathes as his cock jumps in his pants, and Peter huffs a laugh.

"I came here to show you something, didn't I?" He presses his palm against Tony's chest, gentle but firm, and looks up at him. "Besides, I'm not gonna leave you high and dry," and he leans in, pushing his hip into Tony's crotch, and Tony groans.

"Peter, you don't have to…"

Peter's hand slides into the space between them, cupping him through his pants, and rational thought turns into a distant memory. His hand is a little smaller than Tony's own, the fingers slimmer, and his touch is gentle. "I know that, but I think I've made it pretty clear that I want to." He nudges Tony's nose with his own, smiles. "I want you."

Part of him wants to fall back on his old habits, wants to snark that _yeah, obviously, who doesn't_ , but this is Peter. Peter, who looks at him with so much ~~lo~~ trust in his eyes that Tony thinks he's going to choke on it. And so he says, "God, I want you, too, Pete. I just… I'm not-"

"Stop." His voice is firm, allowing no argument, and Tony lets himself melt into it when Peter kisses him, soft and gentle and achingly familiar already. Finally, he pulls back a little, resting his forehead against Tony's. "I think I changed my mind," he says, and Tony feels like the floor has disappeared underneath him.

* * *

He pulls away, a reflex, trying to silence the screaming in his head that says ' _Of course he did, kid finally wised up to your bullshit_ ', but then Peter grabs his wrist, holds him in place. Tony makes a noise, a tortured sound that makes Peter's face twist into a grimace. "It's fine, Pete, really, I'll just-"

"You'll just _listen_ until I'm done, for once."

Uh. Ok. Hot.

"What I mean is, I changed my mind about the dildo," and he raises his eyebrows meaningfully, clenches around Tony's fingers still buried in him, and.

Oh.

"Peter," he says, helplessly.

"Let's get you out of these pants," Peter says softly, before he looks up at him through his lashes. "Unless you want me to stop."

How is it that Peter is, suddenly, so much better at communicating about this than he is? Then again, the kid has always been better than him, so he really shouldn't be surprised. And to be honest, he's proud of him, for taking the reins, taking control. It's an attractive trait.

"Tony?" There's something like concern in the kid's eyes now, and Tony gives himself a mental shake.

"I don't want you to stop," he says, curls his fingers inside Peter, earning himself a gasp. "I so much don't want you to stop that it scares me." He inhales shakily, huffs a tired laugh. "You're so young and smart and good, better than I could ever be, and I..."

"Did you miss the part where I told you I'm in love with you?" Peter's voice is quiet but no less full of emotion for it, and finally Tony pulls his fingers free, wipes them on the sheets almost as an afterthought before he wraps his arms around Peter.

"I'm so scared of _losing you again_ ," he whispers into his hair, and Peter makes a noise before he, too, winds his arms around Tony. "I don't know if I could handle it again."

It's a little creepy and manipulative as fuck, but it's also the truth. If he hadn't had Pepper after Titan, he probably would finally have succeeded at drinking himself to death. The whole weight of what he feels for Peter, what he has felt, in one way or another, for years, comes crashing down then, and he's sobbing before he knows what's happening.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This got dark all of a sudden. Content warning for alcohol abuse and Tony being a bit of a jerk in general.

Peter lets him cry for a little while, rubbing soothing circles into his back until he has calmed down somewhat. Then he says, "I won't promise that I'll never leave you, because it's not something either of us can control." His arms tighten around Tony. "But I want to give us a chance anyway. And I'll keep telling you until you believe it, you are a good man, and you deserve to be loved."

Finally, finally, he manages to pull himself together enough to untangle himself from Peter's grip. He picks up his shirt from where he dropped it on the floor earlier and wipes his face with it (ew) before taking a deep breath, his back to Peter.

 _This is a mistake_ , a part of him is screaming at him. The rest of his brain seems to think agreeing slash initiating this whole thing in the first place was the bigger mistake.

Fuck it.

"Want to get back to testing your reactions?"

There's stifling silence behind him for a long moment, and then he gets a pillow to the back of his head. He half turns to look back at Peter, his stomach clenching painfully.

Peter is glaring daggers at him, hands balled into fists and shaking with rage. "Here's one reaction," he spits, " _fuck you_." And before Tony can say anything, he's off the bed, collecting his clothes. As he bends over to pick up his socks, Tony sees a tear fall, glistening in the light streaming through the window and. Fuck.

"Peter, wait, I-"

" _No._ You don't get to say 'I'm sorry' ad nauseam and then turn around and do the same thing again and again." Peter's eyes are hard, even swimming with tears as they are. "I don't know what I can do to make you understand." And just like that, the fight goes out of him. "If you don't want me, just say it and I'll stop bothering you."

_Say it, you dumbass!_

"I…" Tony rubs a hand over his face. "It's not like that. I…" His hands fall to his sides helplessly, and he's certain Peter must surely be able to see his heart laid open. "I want…" Try as he might, he can't put it into words, can't put it out there for the universe to snatch up and ruin, and Peter's face shutters.

Then he turns and walks out of the bedroom.

* * *

When Tony dares follow, Peter is gone. His backpack isn't in the lab any more, and when he asks FRIDAY, she tells him Peter left five minutes ago.

The StarkPad makes a very satisfying noise when he hurls it at the wall.

* * *

It's been years since he tossed his last bottle of liquor. After he'd gotten the arc reactor removed, he thinks.

Thank god for the internet and one-hour delivery services.

Happy finds him the next morning, passed out in the lab. He doesn't ask what happened, not right away, although Tony knows his friend will, at some point.

"I'm gonna call Pepper," Happy says as he watches him chug water, to wash down the pain meds, after he's helped him move to the bedroom. "You're supposed to pick Morgan up from school."

Right. Shit.

"Thanks, Hap," he murmurs, avoiding the man's eyes, and he drifts off again as Happy leaves.

The sheets still smell like Peter.

* * *

Blessed unconsciousness.

* * *

When he wakes up in the afternoon, he has a dozen messages from Pepper, going from angry ("You _promised_ , Tony, we talked about this!") to concerned ("You know you can talk to me, right?").

He drops the phone back onto the nightstand. After ordering another three bottles.

If he's going to fuck this up, he's at least going to do it properly.

* * *

The next morning, they repeat their little spiel, except now Happy instructs FRIDAY to cut his internet access. Tony can't even muster the energy to be angry.

Later, after he has at least showered and moved himself to the living room to stare at a different wall for a change, the elevator pings and the doors open to spill Bruce into his apartment. Bruce, who looks his specific kind of angry/disappointed. He has that particular look down almost as good as Steve did.

"You want to tell me what this is about?"

"Not really."

"Well, tough. I'm not leaving until you do."

He laughs, humourlessly. "You've know me how long now? Do you really think that's gonna work?"

Bruce just gives him another disapproving look before he settles himself on the couch, pulls out a StarkPad and starts reading.

Ugh. Whatever.

* * *

Tony must be getting senile in his old age, as it takes barely two hours before he folds.

"It's about the kid," he murmurs into his coffee cup, and Bruce turns to look over at him.

"Which kid?"

He rolls his eyes. "Who do you think?"

Tony can see a dozen scenarios that would warrant this reaction play out in Bruce's head, most of them having no doubt to do with grievous bodily harm or something.

Ha. If only.

Finally, he sets his pad down on the coffee table. "What happened, Tony?"

* * *

Tony tells him. At least the PG-13 version of it.

* * *

Bruce rubs his chin and says, "Peter's a good kid, Tony. And he knows you, he knows himself and what he wants. Why not give it a chance?"

Tony snorts indelicately. "Aren't you supposed to tell me to keep my grubby hands to myself?" He wriggles his metal fingers in Bruce's direction. "To stop perving on someone young enough to, technically, be my grandchild?"

_Christ._

Bruce rolls his eyes. "Yes, probably. But I'm not blind. I've seen how he looks at you, and more importantly, how _you_ look at _him_." His mouth quirks into a smile. "Besides, the fact that he told you 'fuck you' is a pretty clear sign to me that he knows his boundaries. Can you imagine him saying that to you even a year ago?"

In spite of himself, Tony huffs a laugh. "No, not really." He tilts his cup this way and that, watches the liquid swirl. "I should probably talk to him."

"You think?"

Tony lobs a sugar packet at him, missing by roughly four feet.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise for the long wait. I have no excuse.
> 
> This whole thing went into an entirely different direction than I originally intended. Hope you like it regardless.

In hindsight, hopping into the Iron Man suit and gunning it for the NYU dorms probably wasn't his best idea ever. Judging by the look on Peter's face when he opens the door of his room, it's actually ranked pretty far down the list. To Peter's credit, he doesn't slam said door straight in his face, however.

"What do you want," he asks, instead, in that polite, straightforward way of his that Tony knows means he is absolutely freaking out internally and doesn't want to show it.

"Talk. I thought about calling but this seems like a conversation we should have in person."

A few students walk past with their not very subtle stage whispering about 'Oh my God, it's Tony Stark, no, you ask for his autograph!', and Peter shoots them a look that's somewhere between _Shut the fuck up and go away_ and _Can you believe this guy?_ Finally he rolls his eyes and steps aside, motioning for Tony to come in.

He's only been in Peter's dorm room once, shortly after he moved in. Back then, it looked immaculate in that Pinterest interior decorating tips way, wholly unnatural for a kid barely out of his teenage years. Now, there are more personal touches, selfies of Peter with his friends pinned to a cork board over his desk, a couple of succulents on the window sill, the Spider-Man suit shoved rather haphazardly into the closet.

The picture from Peter's internship, in a silver frame on the nightstand.

Peter notices him staring, and he takes the picture and flips it over, face down. "You wanted to talk, talk. I have things to do."

Ouch.

Well, he deserves that one.

"The thing is… Contrary to popular belief, I'm shit with words. Sure, I can talk and talk until your ears bleed, but I actually suck at saying things that matter out loud."

Peter is very still, his usually so expressive face blank.

"What I said… I meant it. The thought of losing you scares me half to death. After Titan, I was a fucking mess. If I hadn't had Pepper and Rhodey, I don't think I would've been strong enough." He takes a step closer, tentatively. "The absolute last thing I would want to do is hurt you, you have to believe that." Deep breath. "I was an idiot, and I'm sorry."

The silence stretches, stretches. Tony feels like he's going to break apart.

Peter inhales, deeply, heavily, and then Tony's arms are full with him.

"For someone this smart, you can be really stupid sometimes," he says into the crook of Tony's neck, but there's no venom to his words. "Do you really mean it," he asks, pulling back to look at Tony, voice wavering ever so slightly, and Tony leans his forehead against Peter's.

"Yes, Peter, I do. I…"

God, why is this so hard? It's just one word. One tiny, four-letter word.

_Do it._

"I'm in love with you, too."

It's just a whisper, a secret shared between them, but it feels monumental.

Peter winds his arms around Tony's neck and kisses the living daylights out of him.

Then he leans back, grins brightly and says, "I know."

Tony stares. For a long moment, he's actually lost for words. Then he sputters, "Did- Did you really just Han Solo me?"

When Peter dissolves into helpless giggles, he knows they're going to be okay.

* * *

After some friendly needling, Peter agrees to let Tony fly him back to the tower, even though he makes Tony let him walk off campus first ("I know you've never heard of it but some people's secret identities are actually supposed to be secret.") to pick him up in some alley, like this is 2010 where people would still be surprised by superheroes zipping across the skies.

FRIDAY opens the balcony door for them as Tony draws near, the bedroom one because she's his clever girl, and Peter says, "Watch this," three seconds before they reach the building and then proceeds to wriggle out of Tony's grasp, launching himself through the air, landing inside the room with a roll before he comes to a stop, hopping to his feet. He's still wearing the mask but Tony can tell he's grinning ear to ear. "Tada!"

Tony's heart, meanwhile, is hammering in his throat because _Jesus Christ_.

"Ok, some ground rules," he says as he lands on the balcony, the nanites drawing back into their casing as he walks into the room. "Never do that again without warning me first." He taps his chest. "In case you forgot, I'm an old man with a heart condition."

Peter pulls off his mask and yep, grinning. His hair is an absolute mess, pressed flat in some spots and sticking up at odd angles in others, and Tony is just smitten. It's kind of disgusting. Peter comes closer, running a glove-clad hand over Tony's chest. "Well, then I'd better leave the way I came, shouldn't I? Wouldn't want to risk giving you a heart attack by overtaxing you, old man."

Oh, it's _on._

Tony bends and winds his arms around Peter's waist, who gives him a lovely high-pitched squeal in response as Tony lifts him off his feet. For good measure, he smacks the pert butt now so tantalisingly close to his face, earning himself another squeal and a low moan. "You want to be bratty like this, Pete?"

"I don't know," comes the slightly muffled, definitely breathless answer from behind his back, "d'you want me to be?"

Tony considers it as he takes the few steps to the bed. The idea has a certain appeal, to have Peter talk back at him and having to correct him… Well.

"Let's shelve that idea. Today," he finally replies, just before he deposits Peter on the mattress, looking down at him, "I want to be all about making you happy."

And he should really have learned his lesson by now, because of course Peter smiles, so brightly, and says, "Being here with you makes me happy."

* * *

They surge forward almost simultaneously, lips meeting somewhere in the middle, Peter's hands going into Tony's hair while Tony fumbles for the spider symbol on the kid's chest to loosen the suit.

"No way," Peter gasps as the fabric drops away from his skin, and then his fingers close around the front of Tony's dress shirt and he tugs, sending buttons flying every which way, "I'm not gonna be the only naked person today," and Tony has to laugh.

"Wasn't planning on that," and to drive the point home, he kicks off his shoes and pushes himself to his knees, reaching for his belt buckle.

"Can I...?" Peter's hand hovers, fingers twitching with obvious desire, and Tony takes a breath, nods.

He watches as Peter unbuckles the belt with deft fingers, as he pulls it free from the loops of his pants. There's a second's hesitation over the button, and he starts saying, "Peter-"

"If you ask one more time, I swear I will toss you out of this window." There's heat in Peter's eyes as he looks up, and Tony holds up his hands, placating.

"Sorry, sorry, go ahead." He shrugs out of the shirt and lets it fall to the floor before turning back to watch Peter.

He really doesn't want to miss this.

Peter undoes the button carefully, pulls down the zipper. His fingers graze against Tony's cock with the motion, and he sucks in a breath, his hands twitching against his sides. Peter is staring, transfixed, as he pulls the pants down over Tony's hips, his tongue darting out to wet his lips, and Tony can't contain his groan. Peter's eyes flit up to meet his, and he grins.

Then he leans down, catching himself on his hands as he bends his head and nuzzles Tony's cock through his briefs and fucking…

"Peter," and god, it comes out strangled, breathless, Tony's hands twitching towards Peter's head.

"It's okay," Peter mumbles, breath hot against the fabric of Tony's underwear, and well. In that case. Peter makes a pleased noise when he slides his hand into his hair, fingers curling to get a better grip, and Tony breathes easier. Until, that is, Peter says, "I've been thinking about this for so long," and then his lips part and he mouths at Tony's cock through the fabric with another happy noise, and Tony's fingers spasm in Peter's hair.

"Jesus Christ, kid, you sure you've never done this before?" Peter looks up at him, his lips curving into a smile. The lips that are moving along the underside of his cock, that now find his frenulum and suck. "Get out of the suit," he croaks, "I don't want to have to repair it."

* * *

Their clothes are discarded in a blink, and Peter wastes no more time, pushing Tony onto his back on the bed as he moves to straddle him. He makes a sinful little noise as he rubs himself against Tony, and Tony has to admit that the slide of skin against skin is nothing short of heavenly.

He's almost sure he could get off like this, just watching Peter take his pleasure, feeling him so close.

Tony fumbles for the nightstand drawer, so distracted by Peter whimpering and moaning so deliciously with every little thrust of his hips against Tony that he ends up misjudging the strength of his metal arm and wrenches the drawer straight from its fastenings. Peter, the brat, laughs. "Someone's eager," he says, breathlessly, and Tony responds by squeezing lube over his palm from the bottle he pulled from the drawer before discarding the whole thing, and then closing his now slick hand around both their cocks.

Peter chokes, muscles tightening, eyes squeezed shut, and when Tony grabs a hold of the kid's ass with his other hand, pulling him down against himself harder, when he gives both of them a slow stroke with his metal fingers, it's over. Peter spills all over Tony's stomach with a drawn-out moan that sounds rather a lot like his name, and Tony has to close his eyes and think _really intently_ about external tax auditing for a moment.

Finally, Peter slumps forward, his breath hot against Tony's throat. "Hnnnngg, I needed that," he says, and Tony grins.

"Did you now?"

"I thought I was being kind of obvious, but in case you didn't realise, I'm super into you," and God, the level of sass the kid displays might actually kill him.

"Good thing I feel the same about you, then," he says, then presses a kiss to the top of Peter's head.

Peter makes another strangled noise and - Jesus Christ - then his hips twitch, rutting against Tony. He reaches, blindly, for the lube. "Give me that," he pants.

* * *

Tony can do little but watch, dumbstruck, as Peter sits up again, uncaps the bottle and pours a generous amount over his fingers. Then he reaches behind himself.

'"I know I was gonna give you a show," Peter gasps, "but I really need you to fuck me, like, as soon as possible so we'll have to postpone that."

Tony's still stuck on 'I really need you to fuck me', if he's being honest, and he can't do much more than stare up at Peter, marvelling at the look on the kid's face as he works his fingers into himself. "God, look at you," he murmurs, and Peter whimpers. "Is it selfish of me that I want to keep you here with me, all the time? That I want to be the only one to put that look on your face?"

Peter's cock twitches, his face twisting. "Mister Stark," he moans, and Tony reaches up, rubs the pad of his thumb over the kid's nipple.

"Tell me what you want, sweetheart," he murmurs, and Peter's hips rock forward, just a little.

"That," he gasps, "I want that, I want you, want to be with you," and Jesus. "Please, Tony," and Tony grabs him by the hips, lifts him until he frees his cock.

"Lube," is all he can say, his voice husky and utterly wrecked already, and Peter scrambles for the bottle again. Within moments he has Tony slick and ready (and yes, he has to squeeze his eyes shut and _breathe_ when Peter touches him). "Go on, sweetheart," he says, "take what you need."

* * *

He's a philanthropist after all. He deserves all the awards right now.

* * *

Peter lifts himself a little higher, angling him just right, and then.

Then.

 _Holy shit,_ he thinks, then says, "Holy shit," and Peter laughs breathlessly.

"Yeah," he murmurs as he sinks down on Tony's cock, ever so slowly, with little rolls of his hips. His eyes are closed, his jaw slack, and Tony's heart jumps. _Beautiful_ , he thinks, and then, _I don't deserve to see this_. Peter opens his eyes then, looks down at him. He must be able to see the doubt coursing through him because he leans forward, catches himself on his hands. "I've been waiting for this for so long," he says quietly, before he kisses Tony, and Tony is helpless.

 _Love bombing_ , he thinks dimly as he opens his mouth for Peter's insistent tongue, and yeah, it's effective, made even more so because he knows Peter actually _means_ it.

"Stop thinking," he's saying now, breath hot against Tony's jaw, and then he clenches around Tony's cock. Tony makes a garbled noise in response, his fingers digging into Peter's hips, and then Peter starts to move again, down, down, until Tony is all the way inside him. "M-mister Stark…," and he's trembling just like his voice is.

"Fuck, Peter, you feel…" _Perfect_ , he thinks, _absolutely perfect._

The kid's only response is a hitch in his breathing when he pushes himself down harder, his fingers twitching on Tony's chest as he pushes himself up to sitting again.

Peter's not technically a virgin, what with the sex toys and what have you, but Tony knows from personal experience that a dildo feels fundamentally different from the real thing. "You okay, Pete," he asks after Peter doesn't do much for a long moment, and even though his face shows no trace of pain, Tony can't help the sliver of worry that creeps into his head.

Peter's eyes fly open and he grins down at Tony, and the worry dissipates like mist in summer heat. "I'm more than okay," he says, and lifts himself slightly, his eyes fluttering shut again. "Feels so good," he breathes, and Tony takes his hand, brings it to his lips. Peter whimpers, sinking down again, hips tilting back to take Tony that much deeper. "I had no idea," he gasps, "that it would feel like this."

 _Nor did I_ , Tony thinks, his thumb stroking over Peter's hip. "Tell me," he murmurs, "what does it feel like?"

Peter whimpers. "Full," he gasps, "and hot, and it's… hard and soft at the same time, and…" He accompanies all of this by increasingly frantic twists of his hips, grinding his ass against Tony, a flush rising in his cheeks.

"Want me to show you something," Tony asks, and when Peter nods enthusiastically, he winds an arm around the boy's waist, holds him close, and rolls them over without ever sliding out of that frankly perfect ass. Peter squeaks in surprise, then gives a long moan when his legs fall open and Tony sinks into him that much deeper.

Tony's grasp of his self-control is rather tenuous at this point, if he's being honest with himself.

"This okay?" He leans down, nuzzles Peter's jaw, and Peter winds his arms around his shoulders and holds him there.

"Fuck, yes, more than," he breathes, and then he lifts his legs, winding them around Tony.

* * *

Sweet Jesus, _yes._

* * *

That self-control thing? Overrated.

* * *

"God, Peter," he groans as the kid twitches, against and around him, "can I...?"

"Yes, _yes_ , please, fuck me, Tony, _please_ …"

He starts slowly, even though his body is screaming at him to _take_ , to fuck Peter the way he's asking for, but he knows everything would be over far too quickly then. Besides, it's totally worth it, considering the sounds Peter makes, soft whimpers when Tony pulls out and low, punched-out moans when he pushes back inside. He lifts himself onto his elbows so he can watch Peter, the sight of his lust-drunk face almost enough to push Tony over the edge.

"You feel so good, baby, so hot and tight, squeeze my cock so nicely," he murmurs, and Peter keens and tilts his hips, his own cock twitching where it's trapped between them. Tony bends down, kisses the corner of Peter's mouth. "I can't believe you're letting me have this, that you're giving this to me," he says, kissing a path along the boy's jaw, to his ear, down his throat. Peter shivers, his hands scrabbling over Tony's back.

"Tony, hnnggh, I'm gonna, _please_ -", and his voice breaks, his back arches under Tony and he clenches around his cock like a vice, and Tony quickens his thrusts.

"Come on, Pete, come for me." His voice is more of a growl than anything else and Peter moans in response, his fingers digging into Tony's lower back almost painfully. He pulls back so he can watch, so he can see Peter's face when he comes, and he slides his metal hand to Peter's thigh, holds him in place, and that does it. Peter comes with a shout, and Tony fucks him through it, transfixed by the way the kid's face twists in pleasure, how it goes slack, and again he thinks, _I did that._

Peter's eyes flutter open as he slows his thrusts, a dopey grin on his face, and then the little brat pulls his knees up. Tony almost sees stars. "Are you gonna come in me," he asks, voice all sweetness and innocence, as if Tony wasn't buried to the hilt inside him, and Tony groans. "Because I want that," he continues, hooking those unfairly flexible legs behind his arms as he bends himself in half under Tony. "I want you to fuck me and fill me up, make me feel it," he murmurs as he runs his hands over Tony's chest.

"Christ, Peter, you shouldn't say these things to me," he gasps, his hips moving entirely without his input, and Peter smirks up at him.

"Shouldn't I? Why? Seems to me that you like it," and then he takes Tony's hand, the metal one, and brings it to his mouth, and-

* * *

Fucking hell.

* * *

Peter sucks two of his fingers into his mouth, and his eyes flutter closed. Tony stares, helpless, and then he pushes himself to his knees. Peter grins around the digits between his lips, and Tony pulls them free with a growl.

"You want to feel me," he asks, and Peter bites his lip and nods, and Tony throws all caution to the wind. "Then I'm gonna make you feel me," and he takes hold of Peter's hips.

Peter moans at the first thrust, then squeals, eyes wide, when Tony angles himself just so, hammering against the kid's prostate. " _Fuck_ ," he gasps, fingers digging into the bed sheet for purchase, and Tony grins down at him.

"That what you wanted, baby?"

"Yes, please, _yes_ , fuck me, oh, oh fuck, _Mister Stark_!"

He comes apart again, cock painting his stomach and chest white, and Tony goes a little cross-eyed.

"Peter, I'll-"

"Do it," Peter gasps, shaking head to toe, his heels digging into Tony's ass, "please, please, come, I-"

Whatever grip on his control Tony has left at this point evaporates, and he fucks into Peter, chasing his own pleasure, his own release, the sounds the kid is making spurring him on, and then his world goes white. He comes with an intensity that is blinding for a long moment, and he's sure he's leaving bruises on Peter's hips with the force he's gripping him but he couldn't possibly care less.

* * *

When the world rights itself again, he's bent over Peter, his forehead resting on the kid's chest, and Peter's fingers are stroking through his hair gently. "Fucking hell," he breathes, and Peter laughs softly.

"Yeah."

Tony pushes himself off of him, both moaning softly as he slides out of Peter's ass, and drops heavily onto the mattress next to him. Peter unhooks his legs from behind his arms and stretches them out with a groan, then rolls onto his side, until he can face Tony. He's still smiling, and Tony's heart feels like it's about to burst.

"Hey," Peter says, and Tony mirrors him, rolling onto his side.

"Hey yourself." He reaches up and pushes a strand of Peter's hair off of his forehead, then leans over and presses a soft kiss to his mouth. Peter sighs and shuffles a little closer. "How do you feel?"

"Hmmm," comes the rather contented reply, and Tony's smile widens. "Like I'm about to melt into this mattress." Peter looks up at him, biting his lower lip. "Did I… Was I good," he asks, voice wavering ever so slightly, and Tony wraps an arm around him and pulls him flush against him, never mind the mess of come and sweat.

"You were perfect," he says against Peter's temple, "absolutely perfect, and I still can't believe you'd share this with me, you have no idea-"

Peter tilts his head and silences him with a kiss, a kiss that devolves rather quickly when Tony's hands start wandering, when Peter pushes himself against his thigh.

* * *

And finally, when Peter lies tucked against him, breath slowing after what Tony is fairly sure is his sixth orgasm, Tony pulls him close, and murmurs, "I love you," into his hair.

The world doesn't fall apart around him, no supervillain crashes through the window, Peter snuggles closer with a happy sigh, and Tony can't believe his luck.

* * *

A week later, and things continue to go smoothly. It's all astoundingly normal. Tony doesn't quite trust it.

In any case, Peter continues to go to school, Tony is swamped by Stark Industries R&D, and the moments they managed to carve out for themselves during the week consisted of talking on the phone (it doesn't surprise him in the slightest that Peter almost manages to come untouched just listening to him whispering filth in his ear) and one very interesting lab session (that contained very little actual lab work, unless he counts 'which table holds up best when fucking your intern/lover on it' as an experiment).

Now it's the weekend, and Peter stayed over, which leads to them lounging on the couch, with Peter's head in Tony's lap, each engrossed in their tablets (Iron Spider upgrades for Tony, uni work for Peter), when the elevator _ding_ s and Morgan and Pepper step out.

For a moment, Tony's heart drops into the vicinity of his stomach. He has given Pepper the bare bones explanation of what happened last week, but he hasn't told her who this whole thing was about, and so he's not surprised when Pepper's eyebrows climb upon spotting Peter in his lap.

"I take it you forgot this was your weekend," she says, and Tony grimaces as Peter sits up and puts some distance between them, colour creeping up his neck.

"Ah, crap," and here Morgan gasps, "I did indeed. Sorry, Morgana."

She waves him off, instead focusing all her attention on Peter. "You're Spider-Man," she says matter-of-factly, and Peter nods.

"I am. Hi," and he gives her a little wave.

"This isn't awkward at all," Pepper deadpans, and Tony pushes himself off the couch, dropping his tablet on it as he goes.

"Indeed it's not. Morgan, why don't you take your bag to your room, mommy and I need a second," and she rolls her eyes and groans theatrically.

"I'm not four any more, daddy, no need to treat me like a baby," she says as she trudges off, and Tony has to bite his lip on a laugh.

When it's just the adults in the room, Peter gets to his feet. "Maybe I should go," he says, "I wouldn't want to intrude on your time with Morgan."

"Peter," Pepper says softly, and Tony holds his breath. "You don't have to leave." She turns to Tony, a soft smile on her face, and for a moment Tony thinks he may start crying. "So this is who you were talking about." It's a statement, not a question, but Tony nods regardless. "Well, then I know I don't need to worry any more." She looks at Peter again, smiles. "I know I can trust you with them," and Tony can't contain it any longer, he grabs her and pulls her into a hug.

"Thank you, Pep," he breathes into her hair, and Pepper returns his embrace.

* * *

 _Things will be okay_ , he thinks later that day as he watches Peter and Morgan engrossed in a Lego project, when Peter smiles at him over the top of Morgan's head. They will be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's that. I might follow this up with just random porn set in this 'verse if the mood strikes me. One never knows.


End file.
